


till the end, together

by kornevable



Series: Sportsfest18 [7]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/pseuds/kornevable
Summary: Saying that he is mad would be an understatement, but his anger has been festering for so long that now he's only feeling resentment and a numb sadness that surprises himself. If things made sense in this world, he wouldn't be doing this job in the first place.





	till the end, together

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Thanks to the new season of Free! I got back into the series, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to fill this [prompt](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/10320.html?thread=1940560#cmt1940560): most likely to miss the shot on purpose.

If you fall, you can't get up again. Falling means you got your feet caught in a trap, ensnaring you in a bottomless pit of fear and uncertainty, until you crack and stumble even farther, deeper, deeper, never to see the light again.  
  
It's just that sometimes, climbing that hole isn't an option that's presented to you. Sousuke knows that. He's known it for a long time, even before he realized that he was underwater and couldn't come out without an outside helping hand. Not that he cares much, really. He stares at his calloused fingers, bruised from days and months of pressing the trigger and pushing sharp edges into flesh. He isn't the best at what he does, because there always is someone above you in life, but that doesn't mean he is incompetent—many of his colleagues praise his skills and express the admiration they have for him and his calm demeanor. Sousuke isn't one to let the world catch a glimpse of his emotions, he much prefers staying quiet and blend into the shadows.  
  
A cup of coffee is thrust under his nose, and when he looks up he sees a blinding smile reminding him of summer days spent on the most beautiful beach.  
  
“Stop looking so grim,” Kisumi laughs, taking a seat next to him on the bench. “What's on your mind?”  
  
“Nothing interesting.” Sousuke cradles the cup in his hands, looking at the liquid swaying from right to left.  
  
“Come on, you know I don't buy that.”  
  
Kisumi gently knocks their shoulders together, smile still intact. There is no possible way to describe how much it warms Sousuke's heart when he sees this specific sight, like it lights up every bulb of joy that exist in him. He shrugs and takes a sip.  
  
“And you often say I think too much,” he replies with a small smile of his own. “Don't worry about it.”  
  
“Sousuke, saying 'don't worry about it' does the exact opposite effect.”  
  
The dramatic sigh that comes out of Kisumi's mouth is a common enough sound that it makes Sousuke chuckle. Maybe that was his intention all along, because then Kisumi leans into his side and stays there for a few minutes, while Sousuke feels his limbs becoming as light as a feather, which then turns into lead.

* * *

 

Saying that he is mad would be an understatement, but his anger has been festering for so long that now he's only feeling resentment and a numb sadness that surprises himself. If things made sense in this world, he wouldn't be doing this job in the first place.  
  
He puts on his gloves, sliding smoothly against his skin. The fabric is nice to the touch, and doesn't let stupid mistakes like slipping happen—that's the least they can offer, if they want their job to be clean. His gun is safely tucked against his hip.  
  
(He doesn't want this.)  
  
There is a nagging in his mind telling him to backtrack and to crash on his bed to never wake up again. Falling asleep sounds like a good idea; he won't have to look at the ugly and nasty world he has to witness, but he won't be able to admire its beauty either, and he can't accept that. So he walks, heavy steps carrying him, in a dark path with only one exit at the end.   
  
(He doesn't want this and he's going to regret it.)  
  
There is hardly anybody in the lobby at this late hour; people are either working, either already sleeping to wake up for an early job. Sousuke buys a can of cola from the vending machine, and sits on one of the sofas, elbows on his knees, and waits. The ticking of the clock accompanies the sound of the bubbles in his drink. He waits.  
  
He lifts his head when Kisumi stands in front of him.  
  
“It's suspicious for us to meet in the middle of the night,” he whispers, almost a pout on his lips.  
  
“I don't want the others to think we are doing something funny,” Sousuke answers.  
  
“Well, they'd be right to think so.”  
  
Kisumi waves in the air, dismissing the concern entirely, and reaches into his pocket to hand a folded piece of paper to Sousuke. The latter takes it quietly, studying it, but not opening it. He raises an eyebrow.  
  
“The date and the instructions for our attack,” Kisumi clarifies. “That's what you wanted tonight, right? I tried very hard to come up with a plan quickly, you know!”  
  
His smile is bright, deceivingly carefree, and Sousuke can read all the mischievous hidden behind these purple eyes. He loves these eyes.  
  
He gets up and pats Kisumi on the shoulder.  
  
“Thanks, Kisumi.”  
  
“What, not even a kiss?”  
  
(Hedoesn'twantthis)  
  
He allows himself to laugh, a bit tired, a bit amused. He slightly leans down, his lips brushing against Kisumi's, and Kisumi eagerly makes the last step to make them meet. The exchange is brief, lasting a few seconds, nothing out of the ordinary and definitely too casual for what it means.  
  
Sousuke reaches for his gun, his eyes never leaving Kisumi's face.  
  
And just as he points it at Kisumi's head, Kisumi is pressing a gun of his own against Sousuke's stomach.  
  
“That's really sad,” Kisumi says, a glint of disappointment with edges of regret etched into it. “I'm really sad that it's happening.”  
  
“You knew.” It wasn't a question, and Sousuke can't even bring himself to feel shocked through his confusion and unexpected relief.  
  
“You've been acting weird for a few weeks, and even with the date of our attack on the organization being near, you wouldn't be that anxious.”  
  
Leave it to Kisumi to analyze a situation with only a few details changing from the usual routine. Sousuke lets out a bitter laugh at that, and passes a hand through his hair.  
  
“Some higher-ups found you suspicious, and asked me to kill you if I found evidence of your treason,” he says with so much detachment he doesn't recognize his own voice.  
  
Kisumi laughs. “They couldn't imagine you were also part of it, with your straight face that tells nobody what you're thinking.”  
  
“But you can.”  
  
“I can, yeah. Because I love you.”  
  
There is nothing surrounding them; they are alone in their own world, thoughts and beliefs acting as a barrier and colliding against each other. Sousuke doesn't lower his gun.  
  
(He doesn't want this and he can't do it.)  
  
“That's not fair,” he mumbles with enough mirth to get a soft smile out of Kisumi.  
  
“Nothing is, I guess. Are you going to shoot me?”  
  
This is what he came to do. He was prepared to pull the trigger, to hear the crack of a bullet and to smell blood oozing. He's used to this kind of predicament, where he has to kill to survive; he's used to end someone's life to save his own, because he still has something dear to him to protect.  
  
What is the point of all this?  
  
Sousuke's eyes never break contact with Kisumi's sharp gaze, the one that challenges him to give more than what he can do. He's always loved that look; Kisumi is the aloof assassin that nobody takes seriously and doesn't expect much from, but Sousuke knows that his partner is way more than that, more than the image he puts up in front of the crowds. That's why he can't hesitate, can't get overwhelmed and drown in these waves of urging.  
  
The cold trigger is familiar against his finger, and so is the resounding whistling of a bullet. His hand doesn't shake, didn't falter, but he can feel his core suffocating under the time closing on him. He lets out a shuddering breath.  
  
Kisumi had closed his eyes, and now he opens them, pinning Sousuke with a firm look again, his lips stretching to a grin.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Sousuke finally, finally lowers his gun and allows himself to let go of the burden he's been carrying, his mask crumbling as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Kisumi.  
  
“Let's go,” he says, pleads, while Kisumi rubs circles on his back.  
  
“Anywhere with you, Sousuke.”  
  
“I'm fine with that.”  
  
He didn't take Kisumi's life, and they didn't go through their plan—they are free, without ties, just the two of them together, until they find home.


End file.
